


Punchline

by TheLastGoodGoldfish



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Movie, and two swears maybe, nothing but fluff, post-MKAT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastGoodGoldfish/pseuds/TheLastGoodGoldfish
Summary: It's not a joke, dammit.Even if Veronica's trying to pass it off as one.





	

Recently, Veronica and Logan have taken to facetious marriage proposals.

“Marry me,” when Logan gets extra garlic bread with their Italian order, when Veronica wears one of her more entertaining work disguises.

When he gets up before the alarm to take out a whining Pony, when she does the dishes after he’s had a particularly tiresome day, when he puts gas in her car even though he barely used it.

It started ( _she started it)_ as an _Arrested Development_ reference anyway, and now it’s... pretty much a joke.

Veronica just isn’t sure _why_.

Are they making fun of marriage? Of married people? Of their own commitment issues? Of ironic detachment as a coping mechanism?

What’s the damn punchline?

One of them says “Marry me,” and the other says something like—“ _Why not_ ” or “ _Fine, but just this once_ ,” or “ _Sure, bigamy’s legal now, right_?”—and that eases Veronica’s anxieties, sure, but  _where does it leave them?_

Her feelings on the institution are complicated as it is: cynical, skeptical, intimidated... maybe a little hypocritical...

Because she’s half afraid that the punchline of this joke is the idea that _they_ would get married. Like the possibility is so absurd that it’s a fucking _bit_.

She’s reevaluated her age-old policy against matrimony from time to time over the years, but even if she’s more amenable to the idea these days, Veronica is not untouched by the experiences of her youth, wherein infidelity and divorce were her bread and butter—to say nothing of the disastrous examples closer to home.

And still, she has sometimes wondered: _would she maybe someday_?

At Stanford, the answer was a firm _no_.

At Columbia, she thought _maybe,_ until a brutal semester of contract case studies reminded her of the depressing reality of pre-nups.

With Piz, she didn’t ask herself the question at all. She couldn’t find a good reason _not_ to marry the guy, except _I don’t wanna_ , and if she didn’t want to imagine a future with him, why was she moving in with him, and did she even want to practice law and why did she own like six ugly trench-coats and _what was she even doing with her life—?_

But now—maybe—like—probably she doesn’t want to pick out a ring _tomorrow_ , but possibly she’s moving in the direction of—

She knows it’s her own fault, but it’s just—not a _joke, dammit!_

But these are debates for another time.

She can’t bust out pessimistic tirades on ritualized monogamy at the wedding of a good friend... especially since she’s showing up five minutes late, after spending the last half hour scrubbing blood off her date’s shirt.

“ _Sure_ ,” grumbles Logan, while Veronica takes to the stain on his collar with a hastily purchased magic eraser pen and all the determination she possesses. “We were just gonna _swing by the club_ , get the layout while we’re in town. _Just a quick pit stop, we won’t be late_...”

“How was I supposed to know the guy would be _in the process_ of lifting from the safe?” retorts Veronica from the passenger seat of the Beamer. “I couldn’t _ignore_ it just because you’re wearing Valentino...”

“Or because your friend is getting married in an hour?”

“Hey, no one _forced_ you to jump the guy!”

“Don’t think I didn’t see _you_ about to make a run for him.”

“I was not...”

“And without your taser, too!”

Veronica ceases her attack on Logan’s collar to glower at him. “Where would I hide a taser in this get up?” She gestures at the clingy silk dress she’s donned for the event—the wedding, not the case—and in spite of the situation, Logan takes a moment to appreciate. Veronica swats his arm, then continues her work on the collar. “How’s your lip?”

Testing, Logan makes a face like he tastes something sour. “Fine.” With an arched eyebrow: “Wanna see?”

“Later. There’s no time now.”

“We’re _already_ late,” he points out.

Eventually, mostly satisfied with Logan’s shirt, Veronica sighs and sits back in her seat. “I think that’s the last of it,” she says, angling the rearview mirror toward herself: “Do _I_ look presentable?”

“I propositioned you, didn’t I?”

Veronica digs through her tiny, non-taser-bearing clutch for lipstick: “Yeah, but you propositioned me after our two-day _Breaking Bad_ rewatch binge.” She brings her face right up to her reflection, laying a neat foundation of pink matte over her lips. "You're easy."

“Something about your Walter White impression...” muses Logan fondly.

Veronica smirks. She returns the lipstick to her purse and starts on her hair: _better make it messy/chic today_. “The point stands. You’d take me no matter what. I’m irresistible to you.”

“Mmm, so who are you hoping will proposition you _here_?” He nods towards the church before them, and Veronica finishes grooming. “Because I gotta tell you, Babe, I think you missed your chance with Leo. Although...” He checks his watch, “you might have a minute or two if you want to Andie McDowell this thing...”

They both climb out of the car and stroll around to meet in front of it. Veronica adjusts Logan’s tie, and they start across the parking lot, Logan’s arm draped over her shoulders, her arm circling around his waist. “Maybe I will,” she scoffs. “That’d show you.”

“Well, I’d _definitely_ land a bridesmaid if you ditched me for the groom.”

She pinches him. “It’s lucky you’re pretty, because you're  _so_ annoying.”

“And rich,” says Logan. “Don’t forget rich. And an _aviator_.”

“Cool it, Mouth.” They ascend the church steps, Logan mumbling that there’d better be seats in the back, and Veronica hesitates. But _what the hell_ , _no guts, no glory_ : “When _we_ do this, it’s gonna be the courthouse and then a restaurant, got it?”

The poorly concealed grin on his face as they reach the front doors is the only hint that Logan’s caught her meaning. He drops his arm and takes her offered hand, casual but genuine when he responds, “Anytime, anywhere.”


End file.
